Wedding Night Advice for Constable Collins
by NeverNik
Summary: Hugh and Dot's wedding day approaches, but Hugh's worried about what should happen on the wedding night. He needs advice - and he's decided Detective Inspector Robinson is just the man for the job. M rating for smut. It's rather smutty. Did I mention it was smutty?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello! This is my first Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries fanfic. I hope devotees to the fandom enjoy my effort, and will forgive me for any errors.**

 **Series three hasn't been broadcast in my country yet (even though we're right next door to Australia) and I don't have Netflix, so I'm woefully behind. But what I lack in knowledge I make up for in enthusiasm!**

 **Feedback will be gratefully appreciated.**

* * *

It was early evening. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was diligently ploughing his way through an enormous pile of administration forms, and he was pleased to note he was making fair progress. But he shouldn't have let the pile grow so tall, he admonished himself. Trouble was, every time Phryne – or Miss Fisher, when they were in company - sailed through his office door on a cloud of exotic silk and heady perfume, he ended up following her back out. And then he wouldn't see his desk for another week or so, except for desperate snatches here and there.

And now the canteen was desperately short on tea and sugar, and the milkman was threatening to cut the police station off if someone didn't pay his bloody bill.

But Jack couldn't rest on his laurels too soon. To even take a break for a cuppa before his toil was complete was to tempt fate. It was like Phryne had a sixth sense that she'd honed to pinpoint accuracy. Every time he thought he'd gotten the better of his paperwork, she'd be sitting on the corner of his desk, one long, smooth leg hooked over the other, champing at the bit to drag him off on some madcap, dangerous spree. Or, in her words, 'an adventure, darling.'

Sure enough, there was a knock at his office door, and Constable Hugh Collins poked his head around. 'Uh, sir,' he began.

Jack sighed. 'Send her in, Constable,' he said without looking up.

'Send who in, sir?'

Jack looked up. The doorway was bereft of all life except for Hugh, looking confused.

Jack was also confused. 'Where's Miss Fisher?'

Hugh transformed from confused to boggling. 'Is she meant to be here, sir?' he asked.

Jack frowned, tapping his pen. Against all odds, it appeared that Phryne's instincts were in need of sharpening today.

'Uh, no, never mind, Constable,' he said. 'What is it you need?'

Hugh bit his lip and his cheeks reddened. 'Uh, well, I was hoping I could have a word with you in private, sir,' he stumbled. He quickly looked over his shoulder at the front counter. 'On a personal matter.'

Jack looked down at his noticeably smaller pile – but still a pile, nonetheless – of forms. He should have known God would send him a reliable replacement to interrupt him. He hid his sigh. 'Of course. Have a seat,' he said, waving Hugh in.

'Thank you, sir,' said Hugh gratefully, and closed the door. He took his seat – not on the corner of Jack's desk, thankfully – but on the other side of the desk, like the rest of the population tended to do.

Hugh tugged at his collar and wiggled about on his chair. He checked his watch and inspected his boots. Then he had another go at his collar.

Jack watched all of this squirming with a raised eyebrow.

When it looked like Hugh was starting another round of fidgeting, he said 'Uh, Collins, what did you want to talk about?'

Hugh looked up guiltily, and took a few calming breaths.

Jack reached for his whisky bottle and a couple of glasses. He had a feeling some Scotch courage would be required. He sloshed an inch into each of the glasses and sent one across his desk to Hugh.

His face lit up in delight and relief. 'Thanks, Detective Inspector!' he said gratefully, and took a rather hefty sip. Then his eyes bulged, and he burst into a coughing fit.

Jack took a smaller, appreciative sip of his ambrosia. 'It's got a bit of a kick,' he noted.

'You don't say, sir,' Hugh agreed, wheezing.

When Hugh recovered his powers of speech and respiration, he looked Jack dead in the eye, and said 'Sir, I want to talk to you about' – he took an extra breath for luck – 'sex.'

Silence.

Jack unbuttoned his collar and loosened his tie. 'In that case, you should probably call me Jack.'

* * *

Hugh looked horrified.

'Just for this conversation,' Jack clarified. He retrieved the whisky bottle from its hiding place and put it on the desk. It may be needed for medicinal purposes.

'Oh, no, sir, I – I couldn't!' Hugh stammered.

'Not to worry. The offer's still there if you feel the need to call upon it.'

'Thank you, sir,' Hugh said. 'It's just… well, I don't know who to believe, you see.'

Jack did not see. 'Who is telling you things that you're not sure about?'

Hugh stared at something terribly fascinating on the wall behind Jack's head. 'Well, Dottie's priest told us that f-fornication is a mortal sin, and that the sole purpose of the s-sexual act within marriage is to try for a baby,' he confessed miserably. 'And that we weren't to go for any deviant sexual positions.'

Jack's eyebrow shot up. 'What are deviant sexual positions?'

Hugh sighed. 'I don't know! He wouldn't tell us. And poor Dottie looked mortified enough as it was, so I dropped the subject. But some of the blokes around the station have been giving me some stick about the wedding, and they've said things that, quite frankly, sir, um, Jack, um, sir, I find quite hard to believe.'

Jack made a mental note to have a quiet word with the Sergeant about his lippy staff. 'Care to give me an example?' he asked carefully.

Hugh had apparently discovered a loose thread on his uniform. 'Well, sir, Constable O'Malley spoke of using his mouth on a lady… down _there!'_ he whispered, pointing to his groin. 'And, well, you're worldly and wise and you've been married, so I thought if anyone knows everything there is to know about, um, you know, then it'll be the Detective Inspector!'

Then poor Hugh's face grew wretched. 'Please help me, sir. I don't know a bloody thing, and I don't want to disappoint Dottie on her wedding night.' Then he looked haunted. 'Or hurt her.'

Jack drained his glass and refilled both.

Poor Hugh, he thought. As honest as the day is long, and as innocent as a newborn lamb. With his father killed when he was just a boy, it's no surprise, really. He's a good kid. I want to do right by him.

But I'm not going to enjoy this one little bit.

* * *

'Okay,' Jack said, making himself comfortable behind his desk. 'I take it you're a virgin, then?'

Hugh's cheeks turned the shade of a summer tomato. 'Uh, yes, sir.'

Jack nodded. 'Have you heard of a vagina?'

'I'm not sure, sir,' Hugh said carefully.

Jack found some scrap paper and picked up his pen. 'Right. I think we'll start with a basic diagram of the female's sexual organs.'

'Very good, sir.' Hugh fished out his notebook, ready to copy what the Detective Inspector drew.

'Uh, it's not a good idea to have a drawing of a woman's private parts in your notebook unless it is for evidentiary purposes, Constable. That notebook is the property of the Crown, don't forget.'

'True, sir,' Hugh said. 'Can I make notes of what you say?'

Jack blinked. 'I think you'll find it'll stay in your head without the use of your notebook.'

Meekly, Hugh put his notebook away.

Oh, God, Jack sighed to himself. Then he girded up his loins and picked up his pen.

* * *

 **A little later**

'So, that little round thing at the top of her, um, v-'

'Vagina…'

'Yes! The vagina, is called the, um, oh hang, it starts with c…'

'Clitoris.'

'Yes! The clitoris!' But then Hugh went from temporarily elated to very frustrated. 'I'm never going to remember all these names, sir.'

'Their names aren't that important, Hugh. You just need to know what each part does. So, what's important about the clitoris?' Jack asked.

If my old war buddies could see me now, he cringed to himself.

'Uh, well, sir, it's important because it gives the lady' – then Hugh mumbled into indecipherability.

Jack leaned forward. 'Sorry, I didn't catch that last bit.'

Hugh sighed. 'It gives her pleasure, sir.'

'Correct!' Jack smiled.

'Well, how does it work, then?'

Jack sat back in his chair.

* * *

 _Jack prised Phryne's ivory thighs apart, his mouth watering at the sight of her glistening core._

 _'Don't tease me, Jack,' she begged, her eyes wild._

 _He smirked, then lay on the bed between her long, long legs, letting her heavenly, exotic scent fill his head. A scent that was hers, and hers alone._

 _'Jack!'_

 _He smiled, and languidly dragged his tongue along the inside of her thighs. Almost, but not quite to the centre of his existence - for the present time, at least. She squealed in frustration and clamped her thighs together, hoping to box his ears, but he anticipated that move. This was not the first time Jack Robinson had been in this position before._

 _He pulled her thighs apart and growled - just as his lips circled around her clitoris and gently pulled._

 _Phryne's moan of raw need was so loud that for a distracting second, he feared that Miss Williams and Mr Butler would hear them. But this beautiful, bewitching woman quickly distracted him from his distraction. She wound shaky fingers through his hair and begged him not to stop in a broken whisper._

 _He inspected her clitoris thoroughly with his tongue and his lips, each touch sending ripples of longing through Phryne's body. He teased her further by moving to her plump, glistening labia and drawing each one into his mouth. He'd return to the tiny bundle of nerves at intervals, alternating with each of her labia, careful to skirt around her soaked entrance – to his great cost. Phryne's thighs trembled, and she thrashed her hips about in agitation._

 _Without pausing, Jack placed a firm hand on her pelvis, anchoring her to the bed._

 _'Jack, please, I'm begging you!' she wailed. 'P-please, I need your tongue…'_

 _To hear the Honourable Phryne Fisher beg for him turned his cock to stone._

 _She'd waited long enough._

 _He pressed his thumb to her button as he stabbed his tongue deep into her soaking wet core. An amateur would have presumed, from the scream she cut off by shoving her fist into her mouth that she'd orgasmed, but that was not the case._

 _He feasted on her. She made him ravenous. Her scent and the textures of her intimate body were addictive. He drank from her cunt, taking deep, hard pulls, alternating with his tongue along her vulva. He'd return to her clitoris, either lashing it with his tongue or dropping gentle kisses to soothe._

 _Phryne's breathing grew ragged. Looking along her lithe, creamy body, he smirked at her transformation from perfectly coiffed society beauty to wild, dishevelled lover. She was a study in bold colour – black hair, ruby lips, ivory skin. He gently ran his fingers through her trimmed pubic hair, then he eased two fingers into her hot and soaking core._

 _Her body arched off the bed and a torrent of words fell from her lips. 'Jack, please, oh my God, don't stop, I can't bear it…'_

 _He curled those fingers inwards, searching for that one spot… just as he located it, he tugged on her clitoris with his lips._

 _Phryne's body stiffened, almost vibrating with energy. She flung her head back and her mouth opened on a soundless wail. 'God,' Jack groaned in bliss when her cunt gripped his fingers and fluttered delicately around them._

 _She found her voice, but her wail of ecstasy was cracked and broken. Her fingers gripped his hair, forcing him to stay as she ground her pussy into his face, drawing out those last, beautiful drops of bliss._

 _He didn't mind at all._

 _Phryne's breathing calmed, and Jack gently withdrew from her, kissing her clitoris gently one last time. He sat up, shaking his head to try and clear the insane rush of desire this woman invoked in him. To little effect._

 _Phryne also sat up, and crawled into his lap. Her mesmeric eyes locked on his._

 _'I knew you were the one, Jack,' she whispered._

 _He wrapped his hands around her tiny waist. 'What one?'_

 _She smiled shyly. He'd never seen that before. 'My one.'_

 _She kissed him, gently but thoroughly, darting out her tongue to clean her essence off his face._

 _'Funny you should say that, Miss Fisher,' he replied in a low voice. 'I think you're the one for me, too.'_

* * *

Jack blinked.

Hugh was sitting across his desk, looking expectant.

Uh. Right. How the clitoris works…

'Well,' Jack began, 'it requires a direct touch. But you should always start off gentle. Manipulate it with your index finger – wet, so as not to cause friction. She'll let you know what she likes and doesn't like.'

'Okay, sir.' Hugh looked rather scared. 'How do I know if it's working?'

Phryne's silent orgasm surfaced in Jack's mind. He brutally shoved it aside. 'Uh, she'll make sounds of enjoyment, probably, and her vulva will become wetter – that's a good thing, Hugh – but if you're really unsure, ask her.'

Hugh nodded glumly.

Jack frowned. 'Is something the matter?'

'I really need to write this stuff down, sir!'

Jack sighed and handed him some scrap paper.

* * *

 **A/N: Hugh has another question for Jack in chapter two!**

 **If any Dramione fans have read this chapter, may I say 'congratulations!' and I promise I haven't neglected Stopover 2 or Treacherous Affairs 2. On my honour!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks very much to everyone who read and/or left feedback on chapter one of this story! MFMM looks like an awesome fandom and I'm very happy to be contributing in my own way.**

 **I should probably say that the part in italics is Jack recalling a memory.**

 **Right! On with chapter two!**

* * *

'Well,' said Jack, looking longingly at the whisky bottle, 'I suppose we should talk about sexual positions.'

'Including the deviant ones, sir?' asked Hugh, alert.

Jack scratched his head. 'It's a bit hard to talk about deviant sexual positions when I don't know what they are.'

Hugh rose from his chair. 'Shall I get Father O'Leary on the phone for you, sir?'

'No!' Jack lurched across his desk and grabbed Hugh's arm. 'We don't need to disturb Father O'Leary. I'm…uh, sure he's got lots on his plate at the moment.'

Hugh shrugged. 'All right, sir.' He sat down again, pen and scrap paper at the ready.

Jack looked at his hands, hoping for inspiration. There wasn't much to be found.

'The most common sexual position, particularly among church-going personnel, is called the matrimonial, or missionary, position.'

'Right, sir.' Hugh made a note on his scrap paper. Then he creased his forehead. 'What does that involve, sir?'

'Uh... the woman lies on the bed, or equivalent surface' –

'What sorts of surfaces would be equivalent, sir?'

'I meant just the bed,' Jack amended hastily. 'The woman lies face up on the bed, and the man lies above her, and inserts his erect penis into her vagina. When she's ready.'

Hugh scribbled some more notes. Then he looked up. 'And then what, sir?'

Jack frowned. 'And then what, what?'

'Well, what happens after the man inserts his penis into the woman's vagina? Does he just hang around? Does the woman do something…?'

God preserve me from inquisitive virgins, thought Jack despairingly.

'Ideally when it comes to sex, Constable, is that you and wife achieve an orgasm. So, you need to move in and out in order to achieve this state.'

Hugh had stopped scribbling, but confusion was still broadcast across his open face.

Jack clenched his jaw. 'You know how you feel when you stimulate yourself – your penis – with your hand?'

'Sir!' Hugh's face had moved on from a tomato shade to that of a beetroot.

'You know every bloke does it, right?' Jack asked gently.

'That doesn't mean it should be discussed,' Hugh mumbled.

Jack whished Phryne was here. Hugh would have kittens, but she'd do a much better job of explaining the birds and bees to him than he ever could.

She'd probably love it.

'Okay, well, you know that thing we won't talk about… and how you feel afterwards…'

'Y-yes, sir.'

'The – uh – fluid contains sperm, and that is what you ejaculate into your wife's vagina. If you want to try for a baby.'

Jack rubbed his eyes and dragged the whisky bottle towards him.

'I see, sir.' The office was quiet except for the sound of Hugh's scribbling. 'So… right. I think I get it.'

Jack didn't consider himself a religious man, but the words 'thank God' were dancing the tango inside his head.

Hugh added a few more lines to what looked like his burgeoning thesis on sexual relations, then he looked up at Jack with a wrinkle between his eyebrows.

Damn. Jack knew that look. Unfortunately, it was not the look of a man who is satisfied with all the answers. Still, the ability to ask endless questions is pretty handy for a policeman, he conceded.

'Yes, Hugh?'

'Does the woman enjoy this position, sir?' he asked delicately. 'As much as the bloke does, I mean?'

Jack sat back in his chair. 'Good question,' he acknowledged.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

 _In Phryne's bedroom, Jack was hungry for her body. After this unbelievable bloody day, he needed to reassure himself that she was still alive, still flesh and blood._

 _She nearly died today._

 _Phryne, how could you be so bloody reckless with your life? Do you honestly not know how many people love and care about you? What little voice in your head tells you that it's perfectly acceptable to face a crazed lunatic – a crazed lunatic with a gun, mind you – with just your pearl-handled gun that had run out of bullets? He had his arm locked around your throat and a gun next to your head! If I hadn't arrived on scene and fired at the perpetrator, you could have –_

 _could have -_

 _He sighed and hugged her tight, burying his face in her ebony hair._

 _Phryne withdrew a little and looked up at him, her eyes serious. 'Your body's as tense as a drum.'_

 _'I am a little tense, thank you,' he said between gritted teeth._

 _Anguished, she laid her slim fingers against his cheek. 'I don't want to argue with you anymore. Everything's been said.'_

 _True. In the immediate aftermath of the harrowing event, Jack and Phryne had one of their biggest 'polite discussions' ever. About how she shouldn't run heedlessly into danger._

 _About how he needed to trust her._

 _About why she seemed incapable of waiting for back-up._

 _About how she'd never waited for a man in her life, and she wasn't starting now._

 _Back and forth._

 _Jack rubbed tiredly at his eyes. 'I nearly lost you, Phryne.'_

 _She looked straight into them. 'I nearly lost you.'_

 _He looked away._

 _'Please be with me tonight, Jack,' she whispered. 'I need you.'_

 _He needed her, too._

* * *

 _Jack was impatient. He needed to fuck her. He needed to feel something. Anything other than relief and guilt, mixed with this heavy, almost-overwhelming, desperate obsession for her._

 _He easily rid Phryne of her clothes. She was as desperate as he was to join together, skin to skin, until he shrugged off his jacket – and drew in a sharp breath._

 _Phryne turned even paler than usual and made him stop. He stood still while she slowly peeled his jacket off, divested him of his waistcoat and tie, and gently removed his shirt, paying attention to where it was ripped and bloody on the sleeve._

 _The shirt fell from her fingers, and a hand crept to her mouth._

 _'It's stopped bleeding,' he assured her._

 _She swallowed hard; then nodded. Jack saved her from the smelly degenerate with the gun by shooting him. The man shot at Jack at the same time, and –_

 _It's my fault._

 _And yet all he's done is show me how worried he was about me._

 _I don't think I can let him go._

 _She placed her fingers on Jack's singlet, but instead of raising it, she raised her pale face to his and kissed him. Deeply. Slowly. Her tongue licked his bottom lip, and he opened to her. He always did._

 _'I want this to be slow, Jack,' she breathed, a little later._

 _'My arm is fine,' he protested._

 _She shook her head. 'It's not that. I just want us to be as intimate as possible.'_

 _Jack smiled briefly; and nodded._

* * *

 _The first time Jack and Phryne had sex, he was surprised that she didn't climb between the bed sheets, like he and his wife did. In fact, she laughed when Jack turned down the coverlet. 'Oh, no,' she said gaily, naked as a jaybird, 'I've waited too long for this moment for you to hide your body underneath my bedsheets! I want to see it. Every single beautiful inch of it.'_

 _He raised an incredulous eyebrow._

 _Still. If she got to see every inch of his body – he got to see every inch of hers._

 _He reckoned he had the better deal._

 _Tonight was no different, except that he gathered her up in his arms and gently laid her down on the coverlet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and didn't let go until he was settled between her spread legs, face to face with her._

 _She was a stunning creature. But he hated to see her like this – uncertain, worried. This wasn't the Phryne he lov –_

 _He lowered his head and kissed her, taking her breath away. His hand trailed from the curve of her hair, over her jaw. His mouth followed the path of his hand and further, ghosting over the fine column of her throat to the swell of her lovely breasts._

 _He drew each nipple into his mouth in turn, drawing them into hardened peaks. He made to move lower when Phryne pulled his head back to hers. 'No,' she said firmly. 'I need you inside me, Jack.'_

 _He didn't let his pleasure at Phryne's return to her assertive self show, but held her gaze as his fingers brushed her core. Of course she was right; she was wet, heated and beautiful._

 _He gently parted her thighs further with his own, nudging the head of his cock against her body. He kissed her as he slid inside her body in one, smooth stroke, filling her, feeling all of her surround him._

 _'Jack' – she gasped, closing her eyes in bliss._

 _He lay still, feeling her pussy adjust to him, concentrating on the feel of her hands running through his hair. Then she opened her eyes._

 _He moved with deliberation, slowly in and out of her cunt. Phryne's body trembled, but she didn't drop their gaze. From time to time she'd raise her head to meet her mouth with his, moving their tongues at the same pace as his cock was moving in her pussy._

 _They stayed like this for some time._

* * *

 _Phryne wrapped her thighs around Jack's taut waist, angling herself so he could penetrate her deeper. 'Make me come, Jack,' she whispered._

 _He sped up his thrusts until they were hard and frenzied. Briefly he closed his eyes, hoping he wouldn't disgrace himself before she climaxed. Her moans and cries were words to his ears, but he could feel his own release start to build. Gently he touched a finger to the pearl at the top of her folds, stimulating it –_

 _'Jack! Oh my God, Jack!'_

 _She came over his cock hard, drawing him, for a moment, even deeper into her body. Jack closed his eyes and let his orgasm rush through him, spurting his come into her body._

 _He caught his breath._

 _As a gentleman, he should get off her and let her conduct whatever necessary ablutions she had to make, but right now, that was the last thing he wanted to do._

 _She understood, smiling and holding out her arms. He wobbled a bit as he lowered his body to hers – his arm was starting to hurt – but neither of them said anything._

 _There was no need._

* * *

Anyway, back to Hugh and his catalogue of questions.

'The woman can enjoy this position, as long as you're not too rough or go on too long,' Jack said slowly. 'Again, she'll let you know if you are. You can also stimulate her clitoris with your hand; that should increase her pleasure.'

Hugh scribbled frantically on his scrap paper.

'Hugh.'

He looked up. 'Yes, sir?'

The Detective-Inspector's features were kind. 'It's good that you're looking out for Miss Williams' marital well-being,' he said. 'Not many husbands bother.'

'Oh.' Hugh thought about it. 'So, I shouldn't mention any of this to Father O'Leary, then?'

'I wouldn't recommend it,' Jack recommended.

Hugh nodded, then squinted at his notes. 'So that's what you do when you want to try for a baby.'

'That's one of the positions to try for a baby, yes.'

Hugh scratched his head. 'So, it's possible to have relations and not try for a baby?'

Oh God, another one.

Jack stood up. 'Nature calls.'

'Oh! Of course, sir.' Hugh shot up from his chair as the Detective Inspector rose and headed to out of his office to the Gents. He flipped through his loose-leaf scrap paper manual. Just you wait, Dottie, he thought with pride, I'll be the best husband you'll ever have.

Well. I'll be the only husband you'll ever have, but I'll also be the best.

* * *

 **Chapter three: Father O'Leary won't be happy!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a short chapter before Christmas! Happy holidays everyone x**

* * *

Clearer of mind and empty of bladder, Jack re-settled himself behind his desk. Hugh showed no signs of hand cramp from his laborious note-taking, worse luck, so Jack took a breath and got straight into it.

'Deviant sexual positions,' he stated.

Confused, Hugh looked up. 'Have you found out what they are?' he asked. 'I thought you just went to the Gents.'

Suddenly, the chances of Jack making it through the evening without smacking Hugh around the head looked slim.

'I don't know what deviant sexual positions are.'

Hugh scribbled something out on his sheaf of papers.

'So, I'll tell you about some positions that Father O'Leary might think are deviant.'

Hugh sighed and dutifully wrote out another heading.

* * *

Jack decided to go for the least offensive position first. From Father O'Leary's perspective.

'There is one position that is intimate and gentle,' he began. 'It's also good for when the wife is pregnant.'

Not that he would know.

'Is that safe, sir?' Hugh asked cautiously.

'You should probably consult Dr Mac on that,' Jack advised.

Hugh looked green at the prospect.

'Anyway,' Jack continued, the wife lies on the bed on her side. The husband lies behind her, up close, also on his side. The wife either opens her legs slightly or pushes her bottom towards the husband so he can insert his penis into her. The husband's free arm can be used to hold his wife, or caress her body. He can't penetrate all the way in, because of the way they're positioned.'

Hugh scribbled industriously, then paused and peered at his notes. 'That sounds quite nice,' he said slowly.

Jack nodded. 'It is.'

Hugh scratched his head with his pencil. 'I wonder why Father O'Leary would think it's possibly deviant?'

Jack shook his head in resignation and closed his eyes.

* * *

 _It was early morning. Jack had stayed the night, completely by accident. He'd been working long hours on a complicated case, and then spent almost the whole day giving evidence in Court in front of an irascible judge whose gout was acting up, abetted by a dimwit law school graduate, whose first motion of the day was the tip all of Jack's supporting evidence from the defence table onto the ground. By accident, Jack presumed._

 _Phryne was sitting in the public gallery. Only she saw how the strong, stoic Detective Inspector was flagging near the end – by his compressed lips, rock-hard shoulders and the subtle adjustments to his tie. Like he wanted to rip the damn thing off and stomp on it._

 _He tried to hide his alarm as she sailed through the Court's foyer when the day's proceedings were done, but he was fresh out of tact._

 _She grinned cheekily at him. 'Don't worry, I come bearing gifts!' she said, holding out her hands._

 _They were empty._

 _'They're at home,' she said in response to his blank stare. 'Come along!'_

* * *

 _The first gift was a long, luxurious bath behind the lacquered screen in Phryne's boudoir. Jack sank into it with an audible sigh of relief, feeling his muscles begin to relax for the first time in God knew when. When Phryne presented his second gift, a glass of Glenfiddich into his hand, he stared at it in unholy desire and wondered how the poor folk of the world were getting on._

 _'Oh, my God,' he murmured when she began to massage his scalp. He sipped his whisky, closed his eyes and felt his cock engorge. Absolute bloody heaven._

 _Next thing he knew, Phryne was gently shaking him awake. He heaved himself out of the tepid water and felt like a king as she towelled him dry. His body swayed with fatigue. She kissed him softly, led him to the bed and tucked him in._

* * *

 _ **Morning**_

 _For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. But the cool slide of Phryne's bedlinen and the subtle scent of her lightly perfumed skin centred him._

 _She was lying on her side, facing away from him. Slowly, he reached out and drew a finger lightly over her shoulder, tracing whisper-light movements down her arm._

 _No response._

 _He raised his rumpled head and rested his lips on her shoulder, breathing her beautiful skin. Parting them, he slowly licked, then sucked…_

 _'Hmm…'_

 _A shiver ran over Phryne's body._

 _Jack's erection hardened further, almost unbearably so._

 _Her hand rose and brushed his thigh, too briefly for his liking. Then he hissed when it wrapped around his cock. And stroked._

 _He splayed his hand over her waist and pulled her in, impatient. When he had her where he wanted, he drifted to her breast, brushing over her hard nipple – then he palmed the breast, squeezing it firmly._

 _'Jack…' she moaned._

 _In response, he trailed his tongue along her neck, nuzzling behind her ear. He left her breast and pushed her top-most thigh up, exposing her sex. His lips formed into a smile on her skin when he discovered her soaking and open._

 _He flicked her clitoris, and she bucked against his groin. 'Please,' she gritted._

 _With pleasure._

 _He took his time, entering her in tiny increments – then withdrawing. Again and again. He closed his eyes._

 _There is nothing like this…_

 _Jack moaned when Phryne clamped her thighs together. 'Do it,' she whispers._

 _Anything she wants._

 _His hand on her hip, he entered her in a single, hard stroke; and stayed there for a slow moment._

 _'You are heaven,' he whispered, and began to move._

* * *

Hugh pondered, tapping his pencil against his lip. 'How many positions are there?'

An excellent question.

'I don't know,' Jack admitted. 'I guess you're only limited by your imagination.' He paused. 'And your flexibility.'

Hugh's eyes opened wide.


End file.
